The Enterprise Cafe
by QuestRunner
Summary: Kirk and the crew are college students, forced to collaborate on a group project taught by Professor Pike. Will Spock find an on-campus job? Will McCoy survive his med courses? Will Scotty get a flatmate? And will Kirk ever find his meal card? It's nothing our landing party can't handle!
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Hey there! Thanks for giving this fun little story a shot! This idea would never have been possible without the awesome collaboration from SilasBrandybuck and Scholar for Christ. They are exceptional writers (and fantastic Trekkies to boot) - feel free to read some of their works or shoot them a PM for the roles they play in this story. They definitely deserve it!

SilasBrandybuck: Spock

Scholar for Christ: McCoy

Questrunner: Kirk and Scotty

Additional characters: Collaborative effort

Leonard McCoy sighed heavily as he woke not to the comfort and quiet of the little home back in Georgia he'd left behind for some ungodly reason, but to the cramped quarters of his dorm room and the distinct sound of his roommate crunching cereal like he was consuming spoonfuls of gravel. It was annoying in and of itself, but made all the more so by the fact that Leonard knew very well that Jim hadn't bought any food of his own since they'd arrived two days ago for the Spring semester.

If classes weren't scheduled to start that day, Leonard might've smothered Jim with a pillow and gone back to sleep. As things stood, he had a doctorate's worth of med classes ahead of him and wasn't going to get anywhere lying around like a sack of potatoes.

With solemn resignation, Leonard hauled himself upright, abandoning the relative comfort of his bunk for one of the only two chairs in the room. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, glaring at the chipper young sophomore across the table from him.

"How the hell can you be a night owl and an early bird?" he groused, snatching the cereal box from Jim's hand before he could add more to his already overflowing bowl.

In-between mouthfuls of crunchy goodness, Jim tipped the creaking chair back as far as the spindly legs would allow. To his roommate's disgust, he leaned out of his seat and pulled a secret Captain Crunch box amidst a clutter of glazed animal crackers and chocolate chip cookies in the pantry before devouring his breakfast with gusto. He caught the slight roll of Leonard's eyes as the doctor-in-training prepared a pot of cheap coffee with an equally cheap coffeemaker. The machine made a few whirling noises and chucked a couple coffee grinds skyward until it gave one last, shuddering groan and fell silent. Jim pointed at the coffeepot with the end of his spoon and shrugged guiltily.

"Coffeemaker's dead."

"I can see that, Jim," the flustered medic groaned. "It all but blew up in my face."

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, it wouldn't make me a cup of Joe this morning, either," Jim admitted, pausing only to take a large gulp of orange juice. He ignored McCoy's resident scowl, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he waited for the priceless reaction.

"Wait. You KNEW this thing was busted and you didn't TELL me?!"

"I thought about warning you, but then you took my cereal box away. I hadn't even completed the puzzles on the back. I was in the middle of finding all of the hidden messages with the Captain Crunch Super Decoder!" Jim dawned his infamous puppy pout, the one he knew McCoy couldn't refuse. With an exasperated shake of his head and a few choice words, his overworked and overstressed roommate dropped the topic completely, letting Jim off the hook for yet another disaster. Jim adjusted his black, square-rimmed glasses and settled back into his chair with a contented sigh.

Jim Tiberius Kirk. Aviation major with minors in procrastination and looking damn good in a V-neck t-shirt. He didn't know how McCoy put up with him, what with his tendency to shirk responsibilities and tease him mercilessly. The blonde pushed the cereal bowl away with newfound interest as he peered at McCoy's student ID card. He picked it up and twirled it between his hands. Leonard McCoy.

"If you're done admiring my beautiful face, I'd like my ID back," McCoy grunted and swiped the card, none to gently, from Jim's prying fingers.

"Leonard's not a good name for you," Jim said, rising from the table as he stretched his arms. "Especially if you wanna impress the smoking hot ladies on campus. Have you even tried out the pick up line I found for you? The one that says 'you must be the square root of -1 because you can't be real'?"

"I don't NEED your cheesy pick up lines, Jim—"

"Leo. Do you want to go by Leo? Nah, you're not cool enough for that…Hmm, Len? Lenny? Lee? L to the A-R-D?" Jim persisted, despite McCoy's protests. "I'll think of one for you sooner or later. When the girls hear your new nickname, they'll basically melt into your arms like a bowl of Romulan noodles!"

"You mean RAMEN noodles."

"Whatever. Point being, I'll think of a good one. Trust me! It's bulletproof!"

"Kill me now," McCoy groaned, but Jim was already hard at work reinventing the medic's name.

The semester had not begun as smoothly as the last, Spock reflected, double-checking his laptop bag's catch as he headed out of the flat. A stream of espresso-clutching students flowed reluctantly to class, and he kept to the side, weaving carefully through the crowd at a determined pace. Though still technically winter, the day was rather mild.

Spending the holidays with his parents had of course been better than spending it alone here, but as he'd feared, his father had not been pleased to hear about his son's prospective change of major. All last night, Spock had been staring at the ceiling, trying to run budgets and figures through his mind while instead hearing his father's even voice - the same tone he reserved for uncooperative politicians and officials - state plainly, "If you choose to break from this family, you break from our finances as well. If our way of life is not good enough for you, I shall assume our money is not, either." And then they'd continued Christmas dinner, his mother casting him commiserating glances over the mashed potatoes while his father moved on to his upcoming trip to Israel.

Though she'd assured him that night that she would speak with his father, would work this out, Spock had no illusions that a belated Christmas miracle would give his father a change of heart. He'd always wanted Spock to follow him into politics, to be his right-hand man as a U.S. ambassador to whichever nation wanted him this week. Political science and sociology were great, were fine, but nothing else held the same spark of fascination for Spock as the hard sciences: physics, biology, all the amazing ways life presented itself for discovery.

This semester, he'd bitten the bullet and registered for all science courses, apart from the last few gen-ed courses the university required. "Here we go," he mumbled to himself in the empty elevator as he checked the room number for _Career Building: Steps to Your Future_. Even if the class proved to be a complete waste of time, at least Nyota would be there to join him in griping about it afterwards. Most of the people waiting anxiously outside the doorway looked like freshmen, bags newly purchased and hair obsessively styled to make the optimum impression on the first day of classes. He strode past them and into the open classroom, quickly deciding on a desk at the front-left of the room. He set up his laptop and keyed in the password, then, after a moment's thought, shrugged out of his jacket and hung it over the back of the chair beside him, reserving it for Nyota's arrival.

"I cannae take the class, Professor! If ye would just listen—!"

"Like I told you during orientation _and_ again this morning, it's required. So suck it up and just get through the semester, okay?"

"But, Professor Pike! I already _know_ I'm gonna be an engineer an' I've mapped it all out, so this is really a waste of time—" The two entered the small classroom, a slow trickle of students following in their wake. Pike indicated a seat to the left behind a stoic, dark-haired fellow.

"Take a seat, hotshot. Now."

Montgomery Scott sighed dejectedly and huffed out an, "Aye, sir," before trudging dejectedly toward the empty desk. He slung his bag by his feet and reached for his notepad, doodling a hypothetical diluthium reactor in the corner powered by hypothetical diluthium crystals. His mini blueprint made him smile, though he knew the fictional device would never come to fruition. He tried to ignore the increasing chatter as more students filed in, their accents washing over him like a tidal wave as he tried to piece together conversations. Born and raised in Scotland, the move to America to attend college had been difficult, but well worth it from an intellectual perspective. He was enrolled in some of the best engineering courses in the country, with enough free time left over to tinker on some of his own projects.

He drummed his fingers on his desk absentmindedly. While he _was_ excited about his future and _did_ have a career path in mind, he quickly started seeing the downsides of being a foreigner. The two seats beside him and directly behind him remained empty as people grabbed more seats and gravitated toward their friends.

Leonard fell into his seat with a thinly veiled glare at Jim who naturally took the spot to Leonard's right and was already pulling out a notebook and pen. How he could be so eager about a danged gen-ed, he had no idea. The class was new this semester, new and required, and that spelled a whole three hours of rearranging classes and internship hours all so he could sit in a room with a bunch of freshmen learning all about "reaching for the stars" or "boldly going" and doing who knew what. He was going to be a doctor, not a danged career specialist. All this class was giving him was less sleep, more assignments, and (most likely) Jim hounding him about what homework was due when.

Clenching his jaw against any public displays of his displeasure (he'd already provided enough of that in Professor Pike's office AND his advisor's trying to get out of this thing), Leonard pulled his water bottle from his backpack and took a swig of the alcohol the bright blue case concealed. Students were slowly filing in and Leonard watched them absently. A curly haired freshman looking relieved to have found the correct room, his friend the black-clad Asian kid who looked like he'd prefer to sit in the far back corner than in the front row where his eager friend led him. A couple girls joined the crowd, and he found himself hoping the pretty blonde nursing student would be among them, but instead, he got a couple of sorority girls whose chatting turned to giggling as Jim grinned at them and a pair of girls who settled themselves in the seats in front of him and Jim. The dark skinned beauty in front of him was leaning over to talk to the guy at her left and Leonard smirked at the way the tips of the guy's ears went red when she touched his shoulder.

To her right, sitting in front of Jim, was a slim redhead, clearly the friend, probably roommate of the gal who'd turned in her seat to continue her conversation and was now giving him quite the eyeful of long bare leg (which he refused to look at because he wouldn't hear the end of it until Jim found some other reason to tease him).

Leaning back in his chair as Professor Pike passed around the syllabus, Leonard glanced at the guy to his left. The expression on his face was one Leonard knew well, utter exasperation and exhaustion with the system.

"Hey," he prompted, keeping his voice low as Pike started the usual school policy speech. "You look like you could use a drink. Just be warned, it's strong stuff and if Pike gets interested, I'll deny everything." He offered the bottle, keeping his hand below desk level so as not to attract unwanted attention.

Jim hunched over his notebook protectively, pausing only to flash a one-of-a-kind smile at a group of passing females before scribbling on the blue-lined paper once more. Leonardo. Leon. Lens. He scrunched his face at the words. Ugh. There was literally no good way to transform Leonard's name into a number ten on the Richter Scale of Coolness. And with McCoy's perpetual scowl and constant whining, he'd never woo a beauty at this rate. He briefly wondered if his roommate actually wanted his help…Jim shrugged. Oh, well. He had more important things on his mind, like becoming his pal Leonard's ultimate wingman and forcing him to confront the as-of-yet-unknown woman of his dreams. But, first thing's first. A suitable nickname. Jim tapped his pencil lazily against his desk and glanced at McCoy, blocking his view of the notebook just in case he tried to sneak a peek at his awesome ramblings.

Surprisingly, Leonard's attention was elsewhere. He beamed at the sight of the usual grumpy, cold-shouldered med student offering his desk neighbor a drink of water from his water bottle. Yay! Leonard was actually making a friend instead of hiding behind a book. Or two books. Or three books. Or four… The presence of an unwanted syllabus shook him out of his reverie. He scanned the paper with half a glance. Weekly quizzes. Three major tests. Multiple pop quizzes. A collaborative group project. YES! GROUP PROJECT! Jim loved them, mostly because he found it exhilarating to boss around a group of student drones and force them to do the lion's share of his assignment while he sat back and enjoyed the ride. A guaranteed easy A.

Jim eventually pushed his pencil aside and fished a rubber band from his pocket. He twirled it between his hands and threw it up in the air a few times while the professor's back was turned, just to see how high he could throw it. It was then that Jim noticed the dark-haired student clad in blue one row ahead of him, typing studiously into his laptop while Professor Pike rambled on about careers, their future, the horrible job market, the depressing reality of student loans, blah blah blah. Smirking, the blonde raised the rubber band, pulled it back, took aim and let it fly. He tried not to laugh as it made contact with the shiny bull cut.


	2. Chapter 2

Professor Pike took his teaching seriously, and even for the first day of a first-level course, he made the class count. Spock was pleasantly surprised to find himself needing to take notes already as Pike broke down the current employment percentages for various degrees and GPAs. The correlations were fascinating, and he took down as much as he could - maybe Pike wouldn't mind e-mailing him a copy of the entire chart... He'd ask after class, since he planned to introduce himself anyway. If he planned to tough it out in the sciences, he'd need employment and income - and fast. No time like the present to start networking and looking at possible internships, and first impressions were-

SNAP!

He flinched, accidentally deleting his last paragraph as he clapped his hand to the stinging mark on the back of his head and swiveled to look around. Gazes rippled to and away from him, a few smiles not-so-subtly hidden behind tapping pencils or coughs, and his suspicions were confirmed. Close at hand, a spectacled guy about his age was perusing the syllabus schedule with a huge smirk on his face... Yep. Note to self: don't sit in front of the middle-schooler next time.

"Did he just-" Nyota whispered beside him, indignation already growing on her face.

"Yeah - it's fine," he replied, fishing the rubber band from the floor and rolling it onto his wrist (aggravated or not, he wouldn't say no to free class supplies). She frowned, but the professor turned from the board just then, a wry smile on his face.

"And now it's the moment you've all been waiting for - meeting your new crewmates, so to speak." A few groans drifted from the back row. "Yeah, I thought you'd say that. Tough luck. You're gonna be working with a random batch of human beings in the workplace, no matter where you end up, and this project will give you one shot at figuring that out in a semi-controlled arena. Your grade, to an extent, depends on how well you work with these people, and vice-versa, so keep that in mind."

Compared to other group projects he'd done, the groups Pike split them into were surprisingly large. Thankfully, Nyota had wound up in the same group as he did, but a brief glance at his new teammates told him he'd be doing a lot more tai-chi and meditation this semester than the last... Of course, the grinning rubber-band-sniper was in as well, as were a bitter-eyed med student in blue scrubs, a scowling goth from the back row, the chipper young exchange student ("Wery pleased to meet you!" he had said, eagerly shaking hands with the entire group), and a distracted-looking fellow who fit the obsessively-sketching, "three cans of Red Bull before lunch" engineering stereotype to a T.

He left class as soon as they were dismissed, head full of the day's tasks. He'd look up those statistics on his own later, and he'd wait until he saw which students actually turned up for the next class before getting their e-mails. The to-do list on his phone was deceptively short: 1) move out of flat. 2) move into dorm. 3) get a job/work study ASAP. The flat he shared with four other science majors wasn't extravagant, but it was far too expensive for his new budget. He'd have to work out this month's rent, pack up... Spock stopped by the campus cafe to gather his thoughts, and ran a hand through his hair, wincing at the bowl-cut shape. Studious-looking, his mother said, but she was basing her student style tips off her kindergarten class, and he'd only let her cut his hair over Christmas because, well, it was Christmas and she was his mother.

Bold letters in the window beside him caught his eye: Now Hiring - interviews all day! That decided him. First, a haircut. Then, time to boldly go where his absurdly-grand lineage had never gone before... to interview for a barista position.

Jim strolled through the rest of the day with ease, cruising through his courses with lazy disinterest. He downright refused to show up for Theater 101, despite it being a required course. An entire forty-five minutes dedicated to learning about dramatic, over-exaggerated acting? No thanks. He'd spark note the plays later.

After a night of playing alien-shooter video games ("It's fine, Leonard! It's not like I'm killing them. The phaser is only on 'stun'!") and a morning TV marathon of MacGyver ("Hey, roomie. I only have one class today and- **quick glance at watch**-yep, I missed it. Don't worry, I'll clean up the snacks later. But this episode was SO GOOD!") Jim pried himself away from the dumpy remnants of his dorm room and into the sparkling sunlight of the outside world. Since he'd lost his meal card two days ago and was too unmotivated to take ten minutes out of his non-busy schedule to swing by the main office and get a new one, he decided to stop by the college-run café for a quick bite. The blonde fished out his battered wallet. Five bucks. He frowned. Maybe if he muttered sweet-nothings to the pretty lady behind the counter, she'd throw a free bagel his way. Or he could pull out the puppy eyes that McCoy had long since succumbed to. Jim pocketed his wallet with purpose. Yep, definitely the puppy eyes.

He shouldered his way past a group of chattering students and entered the coffee shop with an inward sigh. Fun fact number one about Jim: he hated crowds. It made him feel trapped, immobile and…well…insignificant. He liked to lead and be seen. Unfortunately, a handsome mug and a dash of fluffy hair only got him so far in life. Besides, there was this whole complicated social thing called "making friends" that he still hadn't figured out yet. Leonard was his closest, most cherished friend. His only friend.

For a moment, the aviation student stood aimlessly in the café doorway while he mulled that sad thought over. Did he really only have one friend? He'd never really considered it before. He was young. Attractive, surely. He had a great smile. A winning personality. And an ego the flipping size of Texas. So what was wrong with him?

He didn't have long to ponder the mysteries of the friendship universe as he found himself in front of the counter, preparing to woo the gorgeous lady barista with a hint of flattery. What he saw, instead, was a cross-looking fellow with a non-bull cut. No way would he woo that. Jim readjusted his glasses and cocked his head to one side.

"Hey! It's the rubber band guy!" He gave the sallow man a good-natured punch to his shoulder. "I didn't know you worked here! Got anything for five bucks? Sneak in a free cookie and I'll put rave reviews on the customer service survey for ya. Whaddaya say, buddy?" If possible, the man's frown deepened. Jim ran a hand through his hair. Man, was he really THIS bad at making friends? Maybe one of his college classes should be "Making Friends As An Adult" because whatever he did to become popular in grade school wasn't working now!

Leonard was on his third class of the day and was already tired. Thankfully most of his courses were on the medical or sciences side of campus, but that one gen-ed with Professor Pike was all the way on the other side and it was a bit of a hike to go there and back every other day. Still, it was better than trying and failing to find parking around the crowded college buildings and amid the speedsters and just plain blind freshmen drivers.

He settled himself on a stool in the lab, backpack on the floor by his chair and notebook and pen in hand. Human Bio II was a rough class alone, but the lab added a whole new load of work that he was determined to get through with his GPA intact. In his last class, the lecture half of Bio II, there'd been the usual med students he'd seen around in his freshman year. He didn't know any by name except for Geoffrey M'Benga, a brilliant student specializing in abnormal physiology. They'd been lab partners in the previous bio course he'd taken here.

As he flipped his notebook open and more students began to file in, he busied himself scribbling the course title and the date in the top margin as he scanned the people passing his table. There had been a pretty nursing student in the lecture hall a few rows in front of him. Blonde, with her hair tied back in a messy bun, deft fingers brushing it out of her face as she took notes. She'd responded to the name Chapel when the professor took attendance but he didn't know her first name. He had hoped to get to know her better, maybe ask if she wanted to get coffee or something, but at the time, he hadn't come up with a plan to successfully avoid Jim.

It wasn't that he didn't like Jim, but the kid could poke his nose in the worst of places at the worst of times and Leonard didn't want EVERY aspect of his life known. He shook his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he remembered how very lost Jim had been on his first day at college. Heck, the kid probably would've wound up sleeping in the hall if Leonard hadn't taken pity on him and glared the desk jockey out front into giving him the RIGHT room number. When that room had turned out to be both on the top floor and the residence of a particularly nasty frat boy named Finnegan, Len had gone downstairs, shoved the smirking desk jockey aside and put the changes through himself. He and Jim were roommates from then on and despite the trouble he caused, Leonard couldn't help but feel a protective, brotherly sort of friendship grow between them. Goodness knows the kid needed SOMEONE looking out for him.

More and more students were entering and pairing off with friends as lab partners but the blonde haired Chapel hadn't come in yet, and neither had Geoff. The professor had arrived, going through the usual introductions and starting on attendance as the students got settled. As he did, the door opened once more and Leonard glanced back, hoping to see Geoff enter and save him from being the teacher's partner like some freckled nerd in high school. Thankfully, the dark-skinned student was there to save the day and stepped through the door, scanning the room quickly and marking out the two remaining open seats. Leonard beckoned him over with a jerk of his head but frowned as Geoff tossed him a grin, practically skipping over to the seat a row ahead of him. Len gave him an incredulous look, hoping the "You traitor, what's going on?" message was getting through clearly enough in his expression. Geoff just snickered and hooked his thumb at the door. The instructor called "Christine Chapel?" twice before the door opened to admit a harried looking blonde.

"I'm here! I'm here, Professor Picardo!"

"Right..." the balding professor gave her a look that meant clearly "don't be late again" as she hurried to the last remaining seat, the one to Len's right. His eyes darted back to Geoff who gave him a thumbs up and mouthed "You're welcome" before turning to the front again.

Suddenly unsure and deeply uncomfortable, Leonard tried to look casual as the girl pulled out her supplies and started rolling back the sleeves of the long sleeved tee she wore under her pale blue blouse. The professor began describing the first lab assignment they had and Chapel turned to him before Len could come up with a smooth way to introduce himself.

"Christine Chapel," she said, brushing her hair out of her face with one hand and offering him the other. He shook it awkwardly.

"McCo- Leonard McCoy," he corrected himself, feeling a grumpy slouch growing in his shoulders as he stumbled over his words. She didn't seem to notice, flashing him a quick smile and setting up the equipment for the experiment as she spoke.

"Geoff says you're here on an army scholarship program?" Leonard resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead cast a glare at Geoff who innocently avoided his gaze.

"Geoff exaggerates. My father's retired army, he's helping pay my tuition with the understanding that I will come home with the letters "Dr" in front of my name." She laughed and offered him the test tubes.

"After you, Doctor McCoy."

The lab went well, in spite of Leonard's awkwardness and two spilled beakers. His hands had always been steady before but somehow whenever she handed him something it wound up on the floor and earned him a stern glare from the instructor as he stalked by. Shrugging his backpack further onto his shoulders as he began the cross-campus trek to the nearby cafe, Leonard wondered if he should ask someone's advice on how to handle this situation. He knew it was a crush, had already admitted to himself that yes, he had a crush on Christine Chapel, but having been immersed in his studies for the past years, he had simply never had the time for a real relationship. Not since Jocelyn at least, but she was miles away in Georgia and while what they'd had had been sweet, it hadn't really been a proper relationship. At least, he didn't think so, because proper relationships didn't end with him proposing and her turning him down in favor of the local steroid-shooting airhead jock.

Maybe he could ask Jim. Jim always seemed so relaxed around women, as if it came naturally to him to be smooth and confident. Leonard could handle confident, smooth was something else entirely. But to ask Jim would be to admit that he had a crush which would open him up for a hailstorm of teasing and pestering and interfering until he lost his temper and snapped and made Jim give him that patented Jim Kirk "kicked puppy" look. He really wasn't in the mood to go through that whole ordeal.

Shouldering the door to the cafe open, he wandered inside, caught sight of the kid over by the counter. Pestering the barista no doubt. He joined his roomie, nudging him in the shoulder.

"Hey, you left this back at the room." He passed Jim his college ID. "Seeing as that doubles as your meal-card, it really pays to have it around," he groused, a bit of his frustration seeping into his voice. He turned to the barista, noting without much interest that the man working the counter was not Jim's usual giggling sorority type but rather the uptight student with the bowl cut who'd sat in front of him in Pike's class. Bowl cut was gone, though, which was a relief. The guy's hair looked less like straight combed plastic now.

"I'll take a medium coffee, black." He ordered over Jim's shoulder, tossing his meal card on the counter.


	3. Chapter 3

Montgomery stared dismally at his spiral notebook, pages filled with untidy scrawl and shorthand equations. Ever since he'd doodled that diluthium nonsense yesterday, he hadn't been able to cast the idea from his mind and had lost sleep trying (and failing) to make his make believe warp core into make believe reality. So it could power a self-sustaining starship equipped with teleportation devices and ion torpedos. Ugh. He needed a break.

Closing his notes with a frustrated sigh, he stood from the metal bench and shivered despite himself. It was getting cold. Crossing his arms to conserve warmth, he noticed the Enterprise, the campus-owned café, and made a beeline toward the welcome golden lights. _Enterprise_ , he mused. That would make a good name for a starship. _Stop thinking about it! You need to focus on your REAL studies!_ he silently screamed, shaking his head, but the blueprints began forming, unbidden, in his mind.

Maybe he was just lonely. He didn't think homesickness would've hit him this hard, which is why he'd settled in an off-campus apartment by himself, but he was starting to regret that decision. Without a roommate, how was he supposed to make any friends? Distracted by this course of thinking, he opened the door to the Enterprise mechanically and nearly ran head-first into two students bickering in line.

"Sorry, laddies," he muttered, embarrassed, but the blonde threw an enthusiastic arm over his shoulder and laughed broadly. "No sweat, Scotty. Hey, McCoy! Look! It's Scotty!"

"I can see that, Jim," came the terse reply from the tired med student.

"Ah. It's you two." Montgomery felt the tension leave him slightly as he recognized the two students from his group in Pike's career class, though he frowned slightly in response. "Scotty?"

The blonde grinned. "Oh yeah, isn't it great? Montgomery's such a mouthful, so I'm calling you Scotty from now on."

Leonard pulled Jim away harshly, southern drawl pronounced as anger heated his voice. "I'm sure _Montgomery_ would like to be called by his _given_ name, not to mention _myself_ , so you can stop this hair-brained, ridiculous obsession with nicknames—"

Montgomery stepped forward cautiously, hands lifted in a placating gesture. "Aye, Leonard. I donnae mind. I did come in for a warm drink, though, and if you two are done ordering…?" Jim nearly flipped over himself trying to whip out his student ID and clamor to the front counter. Montgomery recognized the barista as the by-the-books hard-to-pronounce-first-name guy also from their group project and started to reposition himself in line, but Leonard shot him a look and shook his head.

"Nu-uh. Jim's getting your order. It's the least he can do after doing what he does best, which is being an ego-centric fool." He started to protest – he had run into the pair of them, after all – but the grumbling southerner yanked him toward a corner table after threatening Jim to get Scotty's order EXACTLY RIGHT or else. Montgomery sat awkwardly, embarrassed by the attention and Jim's continuous shouts of "Hey, SPAHK! What's the best Scottish drink you got?" when he suddenly eyed Leonard's water bottle.

"Ah have to thank ye, lad. For the spirits. Nevah got a chance afta Career class." The med student managed somewhat of a smile before what seemed to be his customary scowl fell back into place.

"Yeah, well, never hurts to have a pick-me-up every now and then. I've only got water in there now, though. If I kept it stocked all the time, the kid would start to get wise." Leonard nodded his head in Jim's direction, who was speaking to a very stoic Spock as if they were the very best friends in the whole world.

"SPAHK! You've gotta hang out with us, man! We've almost got our entire group together and it wasn't even planned! How crazy is that?!"

"If you're inferring that the statistical likelihood of college students randomly assembling in a college café is by any means 'crazy' then I politely decline your offer."

"But SPAHK-"

Montgomery easily tuned out the conversation, the American accents blurring together seamlessly. Leonard's was a little easier to focus on, what with the Georgian twang, but as for the rest of them…Montgomery felt he had to constantly pay attention to every nuance, every syllable, every lilt at the end of a word. It was exhausting and he was suddenly very much looking forward to his drink. I light tap on his shoulder pulled him out of his reverie, and he twisted halfway in his seat to peer up at the curly-haired fellow from their Career class.

"Eem sorry, but is theese seat taken? Thee others are full." Montgomery blinked in surprise and, sure enough, the café had filled up in a matter of minutes. Jim wasn't helping matters much in that department, seeing as he was now holding up the long line and haggling over prices.

"Pavel, was it? Sure, sit down," Leonard greeted, and moved his bag out of the adjacent chair so the Russian teen could sit. Montgomery blinked in surprise. The kid's accent was strong, but so much more recognizable than the voices that swirled around him like smoke. It was instant relief, not to have to think so much when he was spoken to.

"No problem atall," he added, hoping to ease Pavel's nerves. "Jim - the glasses guy in line there from class - was just getting us some drinks—"

"JIM, WE NEED ONE MORE DRINK!" Leonard roared, pointing a finger at Pavel. The poor kid slumped so low in his seat Montgomery feared he would fall through to the floor. Jim waved crazily then launched into another cheerful, one-sided conversation with the stern barista.

After a day filled with orders completed promptly and professionally, at an average 3.4 minutes per customer, the overly enthusiastic young man opposite Spock had singlehandedly brought that average crashing down into the stray coffee grounds under Spock's shoes. And now he had a name to put to the face: James T. Kirk, according to the student ID he had been handed no less than five times in the course of this transaction. No, the prices were not subject to haggling. Yes, he had had his hair cut recently (creep). Indeed, his last name was unusual. No, it was not pronounced "Spaahhhhckh". No, he would not put salt in "McCoy's" drink. No, not even for 50 cents.

If he didn't know better, Spock might have questioned whether this was some kind of hazing ritual for new servers, but the shine in Kirk's eye was disturbingly genuine. From the corner booth, the rest of Kirk's crew chatted, halted only briefly by the med student's bellow for another drink to ring up.

"And one of those, uh, like a milkshake or something for the new kid. A frapp-yappa-whatever, something sweet."

The three other drinks had required similar translation and clarification, requiring multiple cancelations of the current transaction to input the revised order. Yet throughout, the other student had remained as cheerful as if they were enjoying a free weekend together, insisting Spock come over to "hang out" with them. Over Kirk's ramble of, "With crumbled up cookie in it, or marshmallows, or-" Spock smoothly stated, "Gingerbread is our frappuccino flavour of the month, and I believe it would be an excellent choice." When Kirk didn't immediately disagree, Spock slid the ID card, tore the receipt free, and slid both across the counter firmly. "Thank you. _Please_ take a seat and your order will be out shortly."

And of course, the minute _that_ particular order was ready, nobody else behind the counter was free to deliver it. He fought the illogical amusement (possibly hysteria) rising in his chest with the stern self-reminder that he did NOT get a kick out of parrying that eager student's volley of questions, nor did he have time to 'hang out' with these guys. He had a flat to find, since he couldn't afford the university housing fees, and he had to-

"Well, I'm impressed," came a wry drawl from the table in front of him, the dark-haired med student tilting an eye at him and the tray of drinks. "Thought you'd go back there and turn in your apron after dealing with Jimmy-boy here." Kirk chucked a sugar packet at him, and Spock dolled out drinks to the rest of the table amid their bickering, but didn't leave immediately, his eyes caught by a page sticking out of a spiral notebook by one of the other students' elbows. Equations and blueprint pieces littered the page, and Spock realized the banter had died down, their curious attention on him now. Again, all logic and self-preservation said he should just turn around and go back to his work, but… He caved.

"Hey, do you mind if I take a look at this?" he asked the solemn red-haired student, who looked surprised, but nodded, adding hastily, "It's just some scribbles, mind. Nothin' really, er, practical, y'know…." Impractical, perhaps, Spock acknowledged mentally, but only from the standpoint of immediate application of extra-orbital travel – the design itself was practical and efficient, and slyly clever in ways only experienced eyes would have seen. One section of the crosshatched graph paper was erased almost clean through, an equation connected to a diagrammed device to keep the ship's warp core temperature moderated…. The sound of his manager pointedly clearing her throat pulled Spock back to reality, and he quickly returned to work. That equation kept niggling at him, though, and in between customers and sprinkling nutmeg on whipped cream, he jotted down some potential work-arounds, glad to see the band of students hadn't yet left. With the excuse of checking on customers, he was able to stop by long enough to pass his neatly-penned notes to the engineering student – Scotty – with a brief, "Try this".

By the time he came around again, Kirk and the others had left, but a folded paper left propped against the little display on the table was chock-full of hastily scribbled enthusiasm and extrapolations from the now-functioning equation. A university e-mail and cell number for Montgomery Scott were included with an invitation to continue discussing this project. On the reverse, rather than continued calculations, it looked as if "Scotty" had been sketching out a "wanted" flyer before engineering inspiration had struck. Spock read the simple flyer, a slow smile growing on his face, and set off for his dorm that evening with paper in one hand and phone in the other, swiftly tapping out: _Hey – this is Spock from Enterprise. Still looking for a flatmate?_


	4. Chapter 4

"HEEEYYYY! LEOOOOO!" Jim cried, bursting into Leonard's room. "CHECK THIS OUT!" It had been three days since the start of what Jim jokingly called their "five year mission" at the Enterprise café. When pressed, their blonde "captain" had explained that, due to their majors, everyone would still be attending classes on campus in five years' time, instead of the usual four year circuit like the majority of their peers.

Today, however, McCoy had barely managed to flop into bed after a six hour lab and three hour cramming session in the library before being awoken by an obnoxious shake of his shoulder.

"LOOK AT THIS! IMPRESSIVE, RIGHT?" Jim dodged the hand that tried to push him away.

"Get OUT, Jim."

"C'MON! IT'S SO COOL! JUST LOOK, PPLLLEEAASSEEEE?" The excitable blonde was awarded with a grumpy glare as the med student rolled over in bed and took in the splotches of paint crisscrossing his companion's face.

"Jim, what in the—"

"I swapped out my lousy theater class for this boot camp elective and today we're gonna crawl under barbed wire fences! Extra credit for the camo." Jim waited expectantly for the response he craved. "Well? What do you think? Pretty good, huh?"

"Sure, kid," came the sleepy groan. McCoy buried his face in the side of the pillow. "Now get out before I strangle you."

Jim spent the next five minutes parading around McCoy's room, just for kicks, and ran away laughing when the flustered Georgian threw his pillow at him in desperation.

"Catch you later, buddy! I'll do the dishes tonight—promise!" He quickly evacuated the danger zone before McCoy realized that he'd shirked his chores…again. In his defense, doing dishes was boring and…well, yeah, that was basically his defense. Jim didn't like being bored, and he certainly didn't understand McCoy's penchant for naps.

For the next hour, Jim—armed with only his camo face paint and wits of steel—trudged through mock trenches and muddy creek beds. He reveled in the physical challenge and earned top marks for his proven moxie. The fun class ended all too soon for Jim. Still covered in war paint and streaks of mud, he shouldered his backpack and made for his apartment.

A required paper regarding military tactics was due the following week, but Jim had mentally calculated the scores. As long as he excelled in the field assignments, he could completely blow off the coursework and still squeak by with a C minus. Perfect.

Humming to himself, he set forth for the on-site campus store, hoping to scrounge something cheap for dinner, when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Jim hefted the communicator in his hand (Jim thought he was awfully clever for making up the word and was still trying to convince his roommate to use it, too) and scanned the reminder that flashed across the screen. _BECOME A TEACHER'S AIDE. DEADLINE AT 5:00PM. SCHOLARSHIP DEPENDS ON IT!_

Oh snap. He'd set that reminder for himself a month ago. He praised whatever higher power was above for his quick wit and dashing good looks—those were the only reasons he'd been accepted into such a fine university on scholarship. However, in order to keep the scholarship, he was required to "give back" to the college community by assisting one of the professors for a semester. Like a glorified teacher's pet. It sounded like easy work. His schedule was certainly flexible enough for it.

The problem? He'd totally forgotten about the scholarship requirement. The second problem? The deadline for signing up as a teacher's aide for the semester ended today. The third problem? If he lost the scholarship, he'd have to forget about his dreams of aviation, quit school, and move back home to Riverside, as he wouldn't have enough money to fund his schooling. Jim sagged into a spare bench in numb shock. He glanced at his watch. Four o'clock. One hour. He had one hour to save his sorry butt.

"Don't freak out, Jim. You can do this," he said, as he pulled off his glasses and flipped them aimlessly between his hands. "You're too sexy to leave this place! C'mon, think!" Jim jumped to his feet, replacing the glasses on his paint-crusted face. "Grovel it is, then!" he decided and rushed to the nearest building. He sprinted to every professor's office he could think of and begged the shocked men and women to take him in, like some sort of stray. The answers he received were disheartening: "I have enough teacher's aides this semester." "I already promised the spot to someone else." "I only teach two morning classes a week and wouldn't have enough work for you to do to meet the scholarship hours." "I hand-pick applicants who are already attending my classes." Even Pike, one of his favorite instructors (hey, the man let him get away with shooting a rubber band at Spock, after all), couldn't help him, despite his obvious sympathy.

Growing desperate, Jim made a break for the one place he could count on. The one place on campus that never let him down. The one place where five bucks could buy him the best damn coffee mocha this planet had to offer.

He burst through the doors of the Enterprise, drawing strange looks from the oblivious students sitting in the café, and leaned heavily against the counter. He couldn't confide in McCoy about his current predicament—he loved McCoy like a brother, but he knew what his roommate would say: "Dammit, Jim! I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker!" True. McCoy couldn't fix this. But maybe someone else could…

"SSPPPAAAHHHKKKK!" Jim cried as the familiar dark-haired barista came into view, securing his apron as he started his shift. "SPAHK! HEY!" Spock gave him a once-over as he took his place opposite Jim, frowning slightly at the state of his customer. "Please, Spock, I need your help!"

"If you are referring to the difficulty of choosing between our myriad of caffeinated beverages, perhaps the brochure to your left will be of assistance," Spock replied with a slight dip of his head toward the brochure in question. Jim waved the words aside.

"No, not that Spock! I've gotta become a teacher's aide in less than an hour! Please, do you know anyone that I can talk to? You've gotta know somebody—you're the smartest guy here! Besides, Leonard will have my bones if I have to drop out! Bones…hey, that's kinda a good one…" Spock watched in carefully restrained amusement as the blonde tapped the counter in jittery, unorthodox patterns.

"Jim," he said finally, breaking the aviation major's endless monologue. Jim noticed that Spock's lips pursed slightly, as if he wasn't used to speaking on such familiar terms with his peers. "According to Chapter Twelve, Appendix B in the Student Handbook, there is more than one way you can fulfill your scholarship requirement."

Jim nearly leapt over the counter in pure joy and hugged the man himself.

"SPPPAHHHKKKK are you serious?!"  
"Very."

"Then what else can I do? Tell me! Please! I promise to leave you incredible tips and rave reviews for the rest of my super attractive life!"

"Simple," Spock said with a shrug of his shoulders, all empty promises from Jim aside. "You can choose to partake in voluntary work hours at a campus facility of your choosing." The blonde gaped at him.

"You mean, like, get a job on campus without getting paid?" A crafty smile crept to Jim's lips as he surveyed the Enterprise. "What if I work here? With you? We could be baristas together!" He missed the way Spock gracefully covered the "Now Hiring" sign with a stack of napkins.

"Might I suggest the recreation center—" Before the words had even left Spock's mouth, his excitable companion was already racing toward the revolving café doors.

"I owe you one, Spock! The rec center—PERFECT!" Jim placed his hand on the handle then swiveled on his feet with a broad grin on his face. "Tell you what, Spock—since I'm captain of the group project, you can be my first officer! It's only fair!" The barista peered at him with narrowed eyes.

"I fail to see how military ranks correlate with our shared Careers class—"

"Thanks, First Officer Spock!" Jim said before skipping merrily out of the busy café. He tossed a tattered dollar bill over his shoulder. "Here's a tip!"

The self-proclaimed captain sprinted to the rec center, dodging mingling students as he passed. He made a beeline for the front desk and saw a familiar male assisting the customer ahead of him in line.

"Of course, sir. Our classes have slots from 8:00am to 9:30pm Monday through Friday, with special reservations required on Saturday…" Jim grinned as the customer took the offered information pamphlet from the desk attendant and went on his way. What luck, he'd found another team member from his Careers class! It was the gothic Asian kid—Hikaru, right?

Jim bounded to the desk and ran a hand through his muddy hair.

"Boy, am I glad to see you!" He paused as he noticed Hikaru readjust the small bundle in his arms and smile pleasantly despite the circles under his eyes.

"Oh, Jim. How's it going?" he asked and quickly shushed the squirming baby as she started to coo. "I'm sorry, it's my daughter. I promise I'll keep her quiet. She's been really good all day, but…" He trailed off, suddenly embarrassed. "Uh, sorry. Hey, what can I do for you?" Jim craned his neck around Hikaru's exhausted figure. Half-read books were scattered across the small tabletop along with pages of highlighted notes. Countless cups of coffee—hey, from the Enterprise!—were littered around the computer monitors. A large duffel bag exploding with baby supplies spilled across the floor at Hikaru's feet.

"Hey, Hikaru. Are you working by yourself?" he asked nonchalantly. The young man gave a slight nod.

"For the most part. We had someone helping out last week, but I think I might've scared them off with my little girl. I've been having to take her to work with me lately and—"

Jim jumped over the counter and threw his bag down in the corner with a flourish.

"Hey, good news, pal. I'm your new co-worker!"

"Wait—are you sure, Jim?"

"No sweat, Hikaru. Hey, let's take a selfie together! What's your little girl's name?"

"Uh, it's Demora…"

"Demora, SAY CHEEEESSEEEE!"

Jim, despite his mud-streaked clothes and camouflaged face, completed the shift with ease. He encouraged the single father to finish his studies while he serviced the tide of visitors and calmed Demora if she became overwhelmed by the noise.

"Thanks. I mean it," Hikaru said as they exited the rec center at the end of a long day. Jim shrugged.

"No prob. I'll see you tomorrow, buddy! And I promise that I won't be covered in mud next time around."


End file.
